


Apocalyptic Literature

by brumalbreeze



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brumalbreeze/pseuds/brumalbreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all over.</p><p>At least, to Karkat it was all over.</p><p>Everyone he knew was dead, and he was the only one left. It didn’t even matter what color his blood was now, because everyone was gone, and he was the only one left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Zingled chat with AntenOz. The Sufferer is roleplayed by AntenOz and Karkat is myself. The chat has been very minimally edited to make the story flow better, but this was a completely spontaneous and unplanned roleplay. (Yay, my first Homestuck fanfiction?)

It was all over.

At least, to Karkat it was all over. Everyone he knew was dead, and he was the only one left, sitting in a corner, clutching at his sickle and shivering. There was blood all over the place, and most of it wasn’t his. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t bled. He had, and Gamzee had been so humored by it. (“So my best motherfucking friend is a mutant, huh? That’s real fucking funny.”)

But it didn’t matter what color his blood was now, because everyone was gone, and he was the only one left.


	2. Apocalyptic Literature

For a long time—Karkat didn’t bother counting how long—he didn’t move. All he did was sit there with his knees tucked to his chest, feeling cold—( _so cold, why is it so cold_?)—with the blood of his dead friend on his sticky fingers. The body accompanied him for the entire time, its face twisted away from him, but Karkat knew better. He knew that, even at the last second, Gamzee had a huge, twisted grin on his face. He knew, but he didn’t bother checking.

He didn’t sleep either, for fear of the horrorterrors, the ghosts of his friends, and the last dredges of his sanity. Even though he hadn’t slept for weeks on end and his body demanded rest, Karkat didn’t close his eyes for longer than a split second, just to keep his eyes from drying out. But then again, it was impossible, because he hadn’t stopped crying since he slaughtered the second-to-last troll in existence. (Even though he deserved it, Karkat told himself, he hadn’t _wanted_ to kill his friend. In the end, Gamzee was still his friend, even if he was insane and sick and _fuck, why the hell is all this happening to me_?)

The troll was just so damned tired, and he had no idea what to do, except stay curled up and hope that maybe he _had_ miraculously fallen asleep, and all of it was just a really bad dream. He didn’t wake up, however, and the thought soon dissipated after four days of not moving.

After five days (or maybe it was still four; the Veil made it impossible to tell time correctly), however, he realized that he would have to do something about the corpses. If he didn’t dispose of them soon, they would start rotting and smelling horrible. He hated even coming to terms with the fact that there would be _bodies_ to move. Eleven of them. For a second, he wished he was part of the body count.

But he wasn’t, and he was the only one left now, so he would have to be the one responsible for the results of his failure. (It was never anyone else’s failure but his.) At first, he had no idea what to do but drag them all into one room and let them lie there. It was a gruesome task, since most of the bodies had their heads severed from their bodies, and a few were even lopped in half. By the end of his gory scavenger hunt, his hands were stained with all the colors of the rainbow, and the place was a mess.

Finding each new corpse brought upon a fresh wave of tears and hurt in his chest. Even though all he did was fight and argue with them throughout the duration of their session, they were still his friends, and it was painful to see them in such a state of death. But after finding the seventh body, Karkat had run out of tears and emotion, and the task became a mechanical chore. Check room, see floor, pick up body. Drag.

Drag—drag—drag. Drop.

They were heavy and, in his half-insane, delirious state, all Karkat could wonder was, _What the fuck do you fuckers eat_?

He sat up for the rest of the dayafternoonnight to mourn them, and once he figured enough hours had passed, he wrapped each one in a coarse piece of newly alchemized cloth and threw them out into the Veil. He made sure to throw them hard enough to keep them floating away from the meteor he was on. Ten more tosses later, and he was truly alone.

After the last wrapped body became too small to see, he trudged back into the equally cold interior of the building. There was blood and gore to clean from the walls and ceiling, but he didn’t rush; it wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.

The task kept him mindless for another two days of no eating or drinking, only scrubbing, mopping, and wiping. Karkat doubted the place had been any cleaner than before (not that it mattered any more). He didn’t bother thinking of anything while he worked, too exhausted both physically and mentally to deal with anything, but each rush of blood the muscle in his chest sent throughout his body every second was a keen reminder that _I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive,_ and he wasn’t going to just drop dead like everyone else.

A week after he killed Gamzee, Karkat finally realized that, in a selfish, twisted way, he didn’t _want_ to die, and it would be pointless if he did. That was when he finally realized that if he was going to keep fasting, he _would_ probably die. He cleaned himself up and started eating and drinking again, but only through blurred eyes and an unwilling appetite.

When he finished consuming what little he could keep down, Karkat found himself in the computer lab. He had no recollection of ever walking there, but there he was; he sat down at his usual husktop, ignoring the echoes that his chair created. If he didn’t know better, the place just looked like everyone was off goofing around and not remaining in the lab, like he kept telling them to. But he did know better, and that was all just a fanciful lie.

Instinctively, he turned on his husktop, not really knowing why. It whirred on, and Karkat was surprised that it did, though he had no reason to be: just because all his friends were dead didn’t mean that the electricity was as well. His desktop was the same as before. A program popped up, informing him of some corrupted data during his hasty shutting down, but he didn’t care about it. He had been too scared and panicked to care about proper shut down then.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. There didn’t seem much to browse or check out. He didn’t believe there was anyone else in the world to bother anyway.

Then a shock of realization struck him: the humans must have still been around! Their timelines didn’t run parallel with each other, so the week that had passed for him might have only been a few hours to them.

Hurriedly, the troll double-clicked on Trollian, hands shaking as he waited. A bitter throb went through his body when he saw the list of offline trolls on his roster; they would be names that would never light up again. He tore his eyes away from the dismal sight and scrolled to the log of humans he had on the list. None of them were online either, but that wasn’t a problem.

He rolled through their timelines, anxiously watching the viewport for any flicker of life. The last conversation he remembered with the humans was with John, but his backwards trolling method he utilized was slurring all the events together. He tried to pinpoint when the last time they spoke for _John_ was, to try and gauge what the pathetic human was up to.

It was with a hot flush and pang that he remembered what he had told John in their first talk, and how rushed the boy had been to leave. He never did find out what he was up to, and it wasn’t until then that he began feeling anxious again. What _was_ John doing? What had he been planning to do?

The screen flickered a few times, but nothing but black was showing on the Heir’s timeline.

He cursed lowly, the words not even getting past his squawk blister, due to the fact that he hadn’t spoken for a week. Quickly, he swapped windows. Maybe the Jade human would show up.

He scrolled around her timeline as well, but he had no luck in finding anything. Her viewport was just as blank. (It’d figure that all of the luck—all of it—would have died with Vriska.) Panic began to rise in him in earnest when the same result was achieved with Rose and Dave’s screens.

Where were they all? It must have only been a few hours to them, and yet they were all gone. Unreachable.

Despair filled Karkat’s eyes, for the umpteenth time in too long a week. It must have been an ironic situation, but the troll wasn’t laughing. He didn’t have the will to.

Slowly, he slumped in his seat, letting the tears fall from his eyes. No one would see, and there was no point in hiding them anymore.

This was the computer lab, where he and all the other trolls hung out, trolling the humans, bickering and making fun of each other, having a silly good time, despite the threat of annihilation. And now, it was all over.

The trolls were gone, the humans off doing who knows what, and everything was _over_.

Karkat buried his face into his hands and silently let the red, translucent drops go between the gaps of his cold fingers.

“ _God, KK, thop looking so fucking conthipated already. What’th wrong? Why don’t you go troll some random humanth? Doethn’t that alwayth cheer you up or thomething? In your thupid paradothical way or whatever._

“ _Okay, geez, thop with the glaring. I get it. Juth go to thith thite. You can troll all the humanth you want there anonymouthly. Not like you really care if they know who you are anyway._ ”

The unexpected recollection of Sollux’s lisped words caused him to let out an involuntary bark of laughter through his tears, and he scrubbed his eyes viciously. It had been forever since he was told that, and, between the hours he was busying yelling at John, yelling at Sollux, or just yelling at anyone within hearing distance, he had quietly and begrudgingly turned to the URL his friend had given him and vented off excess anger that way.

Apparently, the site scrambled timelines and chatting partners to ensure complete anonymity. It wasn’t uncommon to bump into fellow bored trolls (“2o ii 2ee that you are actually vii2iitiing thii2 2iite. iim a liitle 2urprii2ed, KK.”) or even one of the four kids they had originally been messing with (“oh nooo! not you again! i don’t want to talk to you!!”), but mainly, there were just a bunch of faceless nobodies with nothing better to do. When or where they were didn’t matter to Karkat. So long as they were there to troll, he would be angry and, consequently, happy enough.

Karkat doubted it terribly, but maybe there were still some people or trolls out there in the messed up timelines who would be willing to talk to him. He would never know unless he tried. Messily, he wiped off the crusty tears off his face and opened his Internet browser. He typed in the link and waited as the page slowly loaded.

At first, he almost didn’t want to believe that, in some warped way, he was still talking to people who _existed_ (not _exist_ ). He was not very responsive at first, constantly getting disconnected due to his silence, but the idea of being able to talk to anyone was too much. Then, slowly, he began to talk back. He still yelled, caps-lock being too much part of him to stop, even after traumatization.

In a strange way, it felt good to know that he hadn’t lost all forms of communication with others. Even if they no longer existed, it still felt good to talk to _somebody_ after a week of silence. None of his conversations were important and few of them even sane (not many people enjoyed being “yelled” at and called names, Karkat discovered; but he still didn’t stop), but they were _something_ , and that was comforting.

He freaked out terribly when he met up with a few past versions of his friends, immediately disconnecting and then regretting it the very next second. Karkat wondered if warning them would do any good, but judging from the way they reacted to his memos, he doubted it. Regardless, he tried to, but his attempts were to no avail; no one listened to him. Eventually, he gave up and just tried to talk to them but still failed each time, breaking down completely by the near end of the conversation and absconding.

It became painfully obvious what they were bugging him about weeks ago, when they concernedly went up to him and asked him what the matter was because he sounded so upset in the chat—except he had no idea what they were talking about at the time and _would they please kindly fuck off because he was busy_? It no longer mattered that he finally got it now, and that he regretted brushing them off, but he guessed he deserved it.

Then, one day (he had been trying to escape Reality for a few days), he stumbled upon a rather peculiar stranger.

Looking for someone to chat with. . . (so, please wait)  
You are now chatting with a person, say hi.

He waited for a few seconds impatiently, seeing if the other human/troll would like to speak up first, but finally got fed up when nothing happened. His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, and he interrogated the other harshly.

▲: WHAT IS THIS, SOME SORT OF WAITING GAME? SHOULD I INTRODUCE MYSELF FIRST OR SOMETHING?

The response was near instantaneous.

▼: WELL, SHIT, I GUESS YOU GOTTA SINCE I DIDN'T.

Karkat groaned. It’d figure he would run into _himself_ of all trolls.

▲: MY GOD, YOU'D BETTER NOT BE MY FUTURE SELF AGAIN.  
▲: OR WORSE—MY PAST SELF.  
▲: I SWEAR, THIS SITE MESSES UP OUR TIMELINES SO MUCH. THIS IS RIDICULOUS.  
▼: I'M NOT EITHER OF THOSE, YOU GREGARIOUS NOOKSTAIN.  
▲: FUCKING HELL, THIS DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE.  
▲: HOW THE HELL COULD YOU BE NEITHER.  
▼: NO, YOU DON'T MAKE SENSE.  
▼: BUT I'D BE WASTING MY TIME EXPLAINING SHIT TO YOU.  
▼: YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM  
▼: YOU WOULDN'T EVEN IF I TOLD YOU.  
▲: I'D CALL YOU AN INSUFFERABLE PRICK, BUT THAT STRIDER HUMAN HAS THAT COVERED ANYWAY.  
▲: WELL, FUCK. IF YOU DON'T TELL ME, I DEFINITELY WON'T KNOW.  
▼: IF I'M AN INSUFFERABLE PRICK, THEN YOU'VE DONE A WONDERFUL JOB OF GETTING THOSE GENES FROM ME.

“What the hell…?” he muttered ill-humoredly to himself. He definitely didn’t remember having this conversation with himself before, so either he was really hallucinating, or he was just screwing with himself from the future. But that last line didn’t make any sense to him. He was about to say so when his partner sent him another line.

▼: HELLO SON.

His mind short-circuited.

▲: OH SHIT.  
▲: WHAT THE HELL.  
▲: OH MY GOD.  
▼: ARE YOU GOING TO RUN AWAY AGAIN LIKE A FUCKING WRIGGLER?  
▲: OH MY GOD, YOU DON'T EVEN EXIST!  
▲: NO, SHIT, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS.  
▼: IF I DON'T EXIST THEN HOW DO YOU EXIST?  
▲: I FUCKING MADE MYSELF. I DON'T EVEN HAVE A FATHER. OR. WHAT THE HELL.

The words spilled onto the screen faster than he could process them, but a deranged sense of hysteria was clawing at him, and _nothing_ was making any sense. He had wondered about his ancestor, sure, but Karkat never really delved too far into it. After all, with blood like his, he hardly had to wonder what kind of history his ancestor would have.

▼: DIPSHIT YOU CAME FROM ME, JUST ACCEPT IT.

Karkat stared at the screen. And then, he typed:

▲: THAT SOUNDED SO FUCKING WRONG.

Because it really did sound so fucking wrong; he couldn’t believe the other guy had just said that. At least it helped him calm down a little.

▼: HOW IS IT WRONG? THIS IS A NATURAL LIFE THING.  
▼: WHAT'S WRONG IS YOU TURNED OUT TO BE SUCH AN INSECURE LITTLE FUCKASS.  
▼: GOD, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?  
▲: WHAT?  
▼: YOU HEARD ME.  
▲: DIDN'T I INHERIT THESE GENES FROM YOU?  
▲: FUCK.  
▼: ACTUALLY WHEN I COME FROM, OUR CANDY RED ISN'T A MUTATION.  
▲: HOW THE FUCK CAN IT NOT BE A MUTATION? IT'S FUCKING DISGUSTING.  
▼: YOU AREN'T A MUTANT, KID. YOU'RE JUST A RESURFACING OF OLD GENES.  
▼: SHIT LIKE THAT HAPPENS.  
▲: OKAY, NOW I KNOW YOU'RE JUST MAKING THIS UP.  
▼: OH?  
▼: YOU WANT PROOF?  
▲: HOW THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT A TROLL TO JUST "ACCEPT" THEIR FATHER OUT OF NOWHERE AND BELIEVE EVERY FUCKING WORD HE SAYS?  
▼: HERE, I'LL JUST CUT MYSELF AND BLEED ALL THIS PROOF FOR YOU.  
▲: THAT DOESN'T FUCKING PROVE ANYTHING.  
▲: I CAN'T EVEN SEE YOU FROM MY VIEWPORT.

Out of pure frustration and confusion, the troll began pulling at his hair. All his life, his blood had been the bane of his existence. It had always been a mutation and always would be. But here was this guy, claiming that _their_ candy red wasn’t a mutation and—

▼: ALRIGHT, HOW ABOUT THIS.  
▼: YOU LIKE ROMANCE STORIES DON'T YOU?  
▲: . . .  
▲: I NEVER SAID THAT.  
▼: YOU HAVE A GIANT LIBRARY DON'T YOU.  
▼: AND NO BODY UNDERSTANDS IT.  
▲: FUCK, WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?  
▼: THEY LAUGH AT YOU BUT YOU STILL KNOW MORE ABOUT THE SUBJECT THAN THEY DO.  
▼: WELL, SHIT, KID.  
▼: MY NAME'S BEEN WIPED OUT, BUT MAYBE YOU SHOULD ASK A HIGHBLOOD SOMETIME.  
▲: OH MY GOD. SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!!  
▼: ASK THEM ABOUT THE SUFFERER.  
▼: I HOPE THEY SQUIRM.

If the highbloods weren’t squirming, he sure was. It was being to get disconcerting how much this guy knew about him. He didn’t want to admit it, but maybe they weren’t kidding. It was strange, but there couldn’t be any other reason why he would know so much about Karkat.

▲: I DON'T EVEN—  
▲: YOU DON'T EXIST!  
▼: THEY SAID I DIDN'T EXIST.  
▲: EVEN IF YOU DID, YOU DON'T ANYMORE!  
▼: THEY ERASED ME.  
▼: BUT I DID EXIST.  
▲: EVERYONE'S FUCKING DEAD!  
▼: EVEN IF I'M NOT IN ANY HISTORY BOOKS  
▼: I RAISED HELL.  
▲: DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD.  
▼: THEY WON'T FORGET ME, EVEN IF I AM DEAD.  
▲: YOU DON'T EVEN FUCKING UNDERSTAND  
▲: WHAT I MEAN.  
▲: HA. FIGURES.  
▼: WELL, YEAH, I'M DEAD YOU'RE FREAKING OUT ABOUT THAT.  
▼: SO WHAT?  
▲: SO IS EVERYONE ELSE.  
▲: SO WHAT THAT EVERYONE ELSE IS DEAD TOO?  
▲: I DON'T KNOW. YOU FUCKING TELL ME.

He was so sure, now, that he had gone off the deep end. He was going insane. There was no other explanation. Had he wanted company so much that he had to conjure up the possibility of an ancestor—his _father_?—comforting him? It was so ridiculous, and he was most definitely insane now.

▲: HAHAHAHAHA. THIS IS FUCKING PERFECT.

(In the back of the mind, the words he had once typed to John came to mind: THIS IS THE LITTLE WORD HUMANS SAY REPEATEDLY WHEN SOMETHING TICKLES THEIR ABSURDITY PALATE, RIGHT?)

▲: NOW I'M JUST HALLUCINATING ABOUT MEETING A FATHER I NEVER HAD.  
▼: KID, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING OFF THE HANDLE FOR?  
▲: HAHAHA.  
▼: STOP THAT SHIT.  
▼: YOU'RE ONLY HURTING YOURSELF AND THEM.  
▲: FUCK THESE WEEKS TRYING TO FIND SEMBLANCES OF SANITY ONLINE, TALKING TO HUMANS AND PAST VERSIONS OF MY FRIENDS.  
▼: THE MINUTE YOU LOSE IT IS THE MINUTE YOU FUCK OVER EVERYONE.  
▲: THERE IS NO "EVERYONE"!  
▲: THERE'S JUST ME.  
▲: JUST ME AND THIS FUCKING HUSKTOP.

Even though it was weak and pathetic and probably the ten millionth time he started crying, Karkat couldn’t help it. So much desperation had built up in him, and he just couldn’t help it. The words blurred in front of him, but he kept reading and typing all the same.

There was a lull, a silence that showed the other line was thinking about what to say. Karkat almost didn’t care at this point. He just wanted the hurting to be over.

▼: WELL, SHIT, YOU'RE THE FIRST ONE WHO HAS NO ONE THEN.  
▼: THAT I'VE MET.  
▼: HOW DID YOU FUCK THIS ONE UP, BRAT?  
▼: YOU HAD DONE SO WELL, HOW DID YOU FUCK IT ALL UP?

The floodgates broke. The words had been so brusque but sincere—like a lusus who had been surprised into mild shock, but accepting nevertheless—that Karkat couldn’t stand it anymore. All he wanted to do was let everything out; everything that had happened, was happening, and will happen.

And yet, at the same time, he didn’t want to tell this troll _anything_ , because what right did he have to give him advice? to chastise him? to act as if he really cared? It was a painful paradox to be in, and Karkat didn’t really know what to do except follow what his heart was telling him.

▲: IT'S NOT LIKE I WANTED TO! AND STOP TALKING TO ME AS IF I WERE YOUR KID. BECAUSE YOU DON'T EXIST!  
▼: I'M DEAD. THAT DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T EXIST.  
▼: MY SOUL IS STILL HERE.  
▲: I DON'T WANT YOUR STUPID DOUBLE-EDGED PRAISE OR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU'RE TRYING TO GIVE ME!  
▼: YOU'RE HOPELESS.  
▲: HAHAHA. ALWAYS HAVE BEEN.  
▼: SO I'M NOTICING.  
▲: A LEADER WHO COULDN'T EVEN KEEP HIS TEAM ALIVE.  
▲: I DON'T EVEN DESERVE TO BE THE ONLY ONE LIVING.  
▲: BUT WHO THE FUCK CARES? OH. THAT'S RIGHT. NO ONE.

With how the conversation had been going, Karkat was expecting a snarky, scathing reply, but what the other did say was nothing like that. A level of pure empathy and _chill the fuck down, kid; I’ve been there and done that, so calm your shit_ pervaded through the short statements, making him that much more incredulous and yet desperate to believe the other.

▼: I THOUGHT THE SAME THING BEFORE, YOU KNOW.  
▼: WHEN IT WAS ME.

Shakily, he entered a few unsure words.

▲: . . .  
▲: WHAT. . . WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

Karkat roughly mopped the tears off his face. They never seemed to end. He half-expected himself to dehydrate through the loss of tears alone, but that was the least of his worries.

▼: UPRISINGS AREN'T A PICNIC, KID.  
▼: YOU MAKE A LOT OF FRIENDS AND ALLIES.  
▼: YOU LOSE A LOT OF FRIENDS AND ALLIES.  
▼: IT'S NEVER ANY EASIER.  
▲: BUT. . .  
▲: YOU STILL HAD OTHERS LEFT, DIDN'T YOU?  
▼: SOME SURVIVED ME.  
▼: THE PROPHET, REDGLARE, BUT I MADE SURE NO ONE COULD LINK THEM TO ME.  
▼: BUT THAT WAS ALL I WAS ABLE TO DO TO PROTECT THEM.  
▲: THEN. . . IT'S NOT THE SAME.  
▲: I COULDN'T PROTECT THEM.  
▼: EVERYONE ELSE WHO FOUGHT WITH ME DIED.  
▼: WELL, KID, NO ONE SAID DESCENDANTS WERE PERFECT REPLACEMENTS FOR THEIR ANCESTORS.  
▼: THERE'S BOUND TO BE PARALLELS, BUT IN THE END IT IS YOUR OWN LIFE, AND YOU AREN'T GOING TO BE EXACTLY LIKE I WAS.  
▼: I WAS FIGHTING A SYSTEM I COULD ONLY WOUND, BUT NOT BREAK.  
▲: . . .

Despite feeling a sliver of gladness that trickled into him (so he _wasn’t_ alone after all. In a bizarre, time-screwed way, he wasn’t the only one who had gone through this crap), he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. This troll, The Sufferer, had casualties, sure, but… in the end, he still had some trolls survive the uprising. Like he was saying, Karkat’s life was not a carbon copy of his, but it was dissatisfying to know that, no matter how much The Sufferer _felt_ he knew, he didn’t know everything.

▼: BUT YOU DID SOMETHING I COULDN'T.  
▲: WHAT?  
▼: YOU GOT ALL OF THEM TO WORK TOGETHER.  
▼: YOU GOT EVERYONE ON THE SAME SIDE.  
▲: . . .  
▲: IT DOESN'T MATTER IF IT DIDN'T WORK IN THE END.  
▼: YOU MADE THEM FORGET THE CASTE.  
▲: SO?

Misguided anger weaved its way through his heart. It was wrong of him to go off on a complete stranger, despite what they claimed, but there was _no one else_ to get mad at, so he went with it.

Deep inside, Karkat knew that he was just jealous. He was jealous that The Sufferer had others left with him; he was jealous that things hadn’t completely screwed up; and he was jealous that, for him, it was all over, and there was nothing to worry about anymore.

▲: YOU HAD SURVIVORS!  
▲: WHAT DO I HAVE?!  
▲: NOTHING!  
▼: YOU ALSO MADE A UNIVERSE.  
▲: THAT WE COULDN'T HAVE!  
▼: YOU CAN'T ALWAYS HAVE WHAT YOU WANT.  
▲: THEN. . . WHAT'S THE POINT. . .  
▲: IN MAKING SOMETHING THAT'S SO CLOSE BUT CANNOT BE TOUCHED?  
▼: TO MAKE THINGS BETTER FOR THE ONES WHO WILL COME AFTER YOU.

He started.

This entire conversation was full of surprises, but…. He looked at the last line again, reading it over and over, as if doing so would make it that much more comprehensible. Nothing happened, but the deep-seated hope he had not yet lost started to pound in his chest and _yes, maybe, there was still a chance things would go right and—_

Karkat didn’t want to bring his hopes up, only to have them get quenched, yet the idea was so deliciously sweet that he could almost taste it already.

▼: I DIDN'T FIGHT A WAR FOR MYSELF.  
▼: I FOUGHT IT FOR EVERYONE WHO WOULD COME AFTER ME.  
▼: WHAT ABOUT THOSE KIDS YOU MADE?  
▼: THOSE HUMANS.  
▼: THAT'S SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR, ISN'T IT?  
▲: I DON'T KNOW.  
▲: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE THEY'RE AT ANYMORE!  
▼: THEY'RE PROBABLY STILL FIGHTING.  
▲: FOR WHAT? I BET THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW WE'RE ALL DEAD.  
▲: ALL DEAD EXCEPT THIS PIECE OF SHIT.  
▼: THEY'RE FIGHTING FOR EACH OTHER. FOR YOU. FOR THEIR FUTURE.  
▼: WHAT WERE YOU FIGHTING FOR IN THIS GAME?

Speechlessness was becoming annoyingly comfortable with him, but the young troll was doing his best to scramble its presence. The question had taken him off guard though, and he proceeded to answer with the yielding caution.

▲: . . .  
▲: I DON'T KNOW. . . AT THE BEGINNING, IT WAS JUST THAT. A GAME. BUT THEN THINGS GOT SO TERRIBLE. ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS TO KEEP EVERYONE SAFE.  
▲: AND. . . MAYBE. . . JUST STAY WITH THEM. EVEN IF WE ALWAYS BICKER OR FIGHT OR WHATEVER THE FUCK.  
▲: IT WAS NICE. JUST BEING WITH THEM. BECAUSE I. . .  
▲: I DON'T THINK I COULD HAVE EVER FOUND BETTER FRIENDS THAN THEM.

Just the mere act of typing was crushing him, because all those words were true, and he wished that he had the chance to just tell them all because it was too late now, and he never realized how stupid he was until it was always too late.

▼: THAT MAKES A GOOD LEADER.  
▲: EVEN IF THEY'RE ALL GONE? THAT MEANS I WAS A GOOD LEADER?  
▲: TO WHOM?  
▼: SOME THINGS AREN'T OURS TO CONTROL, KID.  
▼: YOU CAN'T ALWAYS SAVE EVERYONE.

He wished he could have though. He wished he could have saved everyone and that they were all happy in their messed up ways. He wished, but there were no shooting stars; and besides, he knew those were only flaming balls of rock and dust burning into space, and only silly, stupid humans believed in wishing on shooting stars.

Yet, if it wasn’t luck that he was willing to depend on, there was something else.

▲: THEN. . .  
▲: THERE ARE STILL FOUR LEFT.  
▲: EVEN IF THEY ARE NOT TROLLS.  
▲: I THINK. . . MAYBE IT WOULD STILL. . .  
▼: YOU DID YOUR BEST, AND YEAH, MAYBE THOSE KIDS ARE STILL OUT THERE.  
▼: SO YOU SHOULD KEEP GOING, EVEN IF IT'S JUST FOR A HANDFUL OF PINK MONKEYS.

The troll sat back and covered his eyes momentarily, just letting everything soak in for a moment. When he had rested long enough, he found that the other was still there and waiting.

He bit his lip indecisively, but forged ahead with what he had been wanting to say (and hoping all the while that it was all true and not just some lie).

▲: . . .  
▲: HEY. . . DAD?  
▼: HEH.  
▼: YEAH?  
▲: I MEAN. . . I SHOULD CALL YOU THAT, RIGHT?  
▲: FUCK, THIS IS AWKWARD.  
▼: WELL, IF YOU WANT, I GUESS.  
▼: IT'S NOT THE WORST THING.

Despite himself, Karkat cracked a smile. It felt weird to say—type—that, but it should have been right. John had a “Dad,” so this troll, his ancestor, should be “Dad” too.

▲: WELL. UM. I MEAN, YOU CALL THEM PINK MONKIES, AND FUCK IF THEY'RE NOT. . . BUT LIKE. . .  
▲: GOD, THIS IS STUPID.  
▼: GO ON.  
▼: WE DO A LOT OF STUPID THINGS.  
▼: NOT THE POINT THOUGH.

It was another moment of “Wow, I can’t believe he just said that stupid, shitty thing,” and Karkat made it clear.

▲: . . . OKAY, WELL THAT JUST KIND OF RUINED THE MOOD.  
▼: HAHA SORRY, GO AHEAD.  
▲: WHATEVER.  
▲: FUCK.

Shame burned briefly on his face, but he figured this was as good a time as ever to ask.

▲: HOW DID YOU. . . FIND YOUR MATESPRIT OR KISMESIS OR WHATEVER?  
▲: BECAUSE. YOU KNOW. IT'S HARD BEING IN LOVE. IT'S HARD AND NOBODY UNDERSTANDS.  
▼: WELL. I DO UNDERSTAND.  
▼: I FOUND MY MATESPRIT, THOUGH.  
▼: AH. WELL HOW SHOULD I SAY THIS? I GUESS MY ROMANTIC LIFE WAS KIND OF TURBULENT. I'VE GONE THROUGH A FEW KISMESISES SO I CAN'T SAY IF I EVER REALLY HAD "THE ONE." I HAD TO TRY A FEW TIMES TO FIND THE RIGHT MATESPRIT, BUT OUR RELATIONSHIP WAS PRETTY TURBULENT EVEN THEN.  
▼: I WOULDN'T HAVE HAD IT ANY OTHER WAY, THOUGH.  
▲: DID YOU EVER, UH, ACCIDENTALLY MISTAKE YOUR MATESPRITSHIP FOR KISMESISSITUDE BEFORE? I MEAN, FOR "THE ONE."  
▼: YEAH, IT'S HAPPENED.  
▲: WHAT, LIKE, MULTIPLE TIMES OR SOMETHING?  
▼: HM. WELL I HAD A SHORT THING WITH MINDFANG ONCE.  
▼: AND AFTER HER WITH DUALSCAR. THOSE TWO WERE REALLY FUCKED THE HELL UP THOUGH.  
▼: I THINK THEY MOSTLY USED ME TO GET AT EACH OTHER AND JUST CONFUSED THEMSELVES ON WHAT THEY WANTED.  
▲: WOW, IT'S KIND OF. . . AWKWARD THINKING ABOUT VRISKA AND ERIDAN'S ANCESTORS LIKE THAT. I MEAN. . . UH. OKAY. I GUESS HISTORY REALLY DIDN'T REPEAT ITSELF EXACTLY THEN.  
▼: NO, LIKE I SAID, YOU GUYS AREN'T PERFECT REPLAYS OF WHO WE ARE. YOUR SITUATIONS ARE DIFFERENT FROM OURS.  
▼: IN MY CASE I WAS A WELL KNOWN REBEL LEADER. SHIT, YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE I HAD TO TURN AWAY.  
▼: CHARISMA CAN BE INTOXICATING FOR SOME, NOT EVEN JOKING HERE.

Karkat took a moment to pull off a Facepalm Combo x2 before resuming his chat with his apparently Troll Casanova-esque father. The guy really was unbearable at times, but he was all Karkat had, and he wasn’t going to look a gift hoofbeast in the mouth.

▲: UHH, OKAY. CONTINUE. I JUST KIND OF. . . NEED HELP WITH A RELATIONSHIP I'M STILL KIND OF CONFUSED ABOUT.  
▼: WHO IS IT?  
▼: WHICH QUADRANT?  
▲: FUCK, WELL, OKAY, DON'T FLIP YOUR SHIT ON ME OR SOMETHING, BECAUSE YOU'RE GOING TO THINK I'M A FUCKING WEIRDO OR SOMETHING.  
▲: AND I DON'T KNOW IF IT'S A MATESPRITSHIP OR KISMESISSITUDE YET.  
▲: AND THERE ISN’T A LOT OF TROLLS LEFT AROUND TO HELP ME IN AN AUSPISTICE.  
▼: WELL, GO ON.  
▲: WELL LIKE I SAID. . . THOSE, UH. . . HUMANS, RIGHT? I MEAN. IT'S JUST—OKAY, IT'S JUST STUPID AND THERE'S THIS REALLY STUPID TERM THEY USE FOR THIS KIND OF SHIT, AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY THEY HAVE IT BUT.  
▲: SHIT, NOW I'M JUST RAMBLING.

He didn’t expect confession to be so difficult, but he had to pull through it. It was now or never.

▲: LOOK, I THINK I MIGHT HAVE FLUSHED FEELINGS FOR ONE OF THOSE HUMANS AND. . . I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I'M JUST CONFUSED OR WHATEVER, BUT IT'S REALLY FUCKING ANNOYING.

The troll braced himself for shit getting flipped, because he must have really been some sexual deviant to fall in lovepityhate with someone outside of his own species. To Karkat, it was almost—almost—like wanting a matespritship with a hoofbeast.

▼: OH, I SEE.  
▲: WOW, JUST LIKE THAT?  
▲: NO FLIPPING YOUR SHIT? YOUR SON'S TRYING FOR AN INTERSPECIES RELATIONSHIP AND YOU'RE NOT FLIPPING YOUR SHIT OVER THIS?  
▼: I'M DEAD AND MOST OF OUR SOCIETY IS BASICALLY ALSO DEAD.  
▼: I DON'T SEE THE POINT.

The more Karkat talked with his dad, the more frustrated he was getting. He was helping, but in such a counterproductive (yet still practical) manner, that he didn’t know how to deal with it all. Though he had hoped his dad would be accepting toward his strange preferences, this was almost _too_ accepting.

▲: . . .  
▲: RIGHT.  
▼: YOU MAY AS WELL ENJOY YOUR LIFE WITH WHOEVER YOU FEEL LIKE.  
▲: YEAH, BECAUSE I HAVE SO MANY OTHER CHOICES TO CHOOSE FROM ANYWAY.  
▼: PRECISELY.  
▼: HAHAHA, NO BUT REALLY.  
▼: IF YOU LIKE THIS KID, YOU MAY AS WELL GO FOR IT.  
▼: UNLESS YOU HAVE SOME REASON TO HOLD BACK?  
▲: OKAY, FIRST OF ALL, WHAT PART OF, "I'M NOT SURE WHETHER THIS IS A MATESPRITSHIP OR KISMESISSITUDE" DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?  
▼: WELL FUCK, JUST EXPLAIN YOURSELF ALREADY. FIND A PILE SOMEWHERE, CLIMB ON, AND WE'LL GET DOWN TO THE WHOLE B'AWING ABOUT OUR FEELINGS SHIT.

At the suggestion, Karkat turned around in his seat. He had cleaned all the blood from the place, but essentially left everything else untouched, which meant than Unireal Air was still waiting to trip him over, a torn plushie looked sadly at the ceiling, and a pile of horns was sitting in the corner.

He raised an eyebrow at the pile and decided that passing the offer was probably his best plan of action.

▲: THERE'S ONLY A PILE OF HORNS IN HERE AND LIKE FUCK I'M GOING TO CLIMB ON TOP OF THAT.  
▼: OH BOO HOO, AM I SUPPOSED TO GIVE A FUCK?  
▼: WHATEVER, JUST GET ON WITH IT ALREADY.  
▲: OH MY FUCKING GOD.  
▲: OKAY, WHATEVER. I WILL, JUST CALM YOUR SHIT DOWN, FOR FUCK'S SAKE.  
▼: YOU'RE THE ONE STALLING.  
▲: SHUT UP, IT'S NOT LIKE I TALK ABOUT THESE TYPES OF THINGS WITH EVERY FUCKING TROLL I KNOW.  
▼: YOU DON'T HAVE MANY OTHER OPTIONS, KID. YOU MAY AS WELL TALK TO DEAR OLD DAD.  
▲: YEAH, KEEP THAT CRAP UP AND SEE HOW IT GOES. FUCKASS.  
▲: IT'S JUST WITH THE HUMANS, THERE'S THIS THING CALLED "HOMOSEXUALS" OR WHATEVER THE CRAP AND THE HUMAN I HATE/PITY APPARENTLY ISN'T ONE OF THEM.  
▼: THAT'S A THING?  
▲: YEAH, DO YOU NEED ME TO EXPLAIN THAT TO YOU OR WHATEVER? BECAUSE I STILL DON'T GET THE STUPID CONCEPT COMPLETELY.  
▼: I HAVE NEVER EVER HEARD OF THAT WORD. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?  
▲: LIKE FUCK IF I KNOW, BUT APPARENTLY IT'S WHEN TWO HUMANS OF THE SAME SEX LOVE EACH OTHER. SO I GUESS THE HUMAN I'M INTERESTED IN DOESN'T LIKE MALES.  
▼: WELL SHIT, I CAN SEE WHERE YOUR PROBLEM IS.  
▲: YEAH. THANKS A LOT TROLL SHERLOCK.  
▼: HOW OLD IS THIS KID AGAIN?  
▲: THIRTEEN, BUT THEIR EARTH YEARS ARE ALL FUCKED UP TOO. I THINK HE'S AROUND SIX SWEEPS.  
▼: I SEE, SO ABOUT YOUR AGE THEN. WELL HAVE YOU ASKED HIM HOW HE KNOWS HE'S NOT A HOMOSEXUAL?  
▼: I MEAN YOU'RE ALL STILL BASICALLY KIDS. WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE, I WASN'T EVEN REALLY SURE WHAT I WANTED.  
▲: I DON'T KNOW. HE WAS KIND OF BRIEF WITH ME AND JUST CUT ME OFF BEFORE I EVEN HAD A CHANCE TO ASK HIM FULLY.  
▼: NEXT TIME YOU GET TO REALLY TALK, YOU BETTER ASK. I MEAN HE MAY ONLY THINK HE IS BUT NOT REALLY KNOW FOR SURE.  
▲: I GUESS. BUT. . . HIS TIMELINE'S BEEN CORRUPTED LATELY, SO I HAVEN'T REALLY BEEN ABLE TO REACH HIM.  
▼: WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU TALKED TO HIM FROM HIS PERSPECTIVE?  
▲: GOD. I DON'T. . . I DON'T KNOW. I HAVEN'T REALLY. . . TRIED TO REACH HIM IN A WEEK OR TWO FROM OUR PERSPECTIVE.  
▲: A LOT OF SHIT'S BEEN GOING ON, DAD.  
▲: I DON'T KNOW IF ANYTHING LIKE WHAT HAPPENED HERE HAPPENED WITH YOU BUT IT'S BEEN KIND OF TOUGH.

Briefly, Karkat wondered if there was any way he could condense the amount of shit that had been happening with him in a short, concise way, just to let his dad know how things have been, but found that he couldn’t. (He then wondered if he might _ever_ get the chance to explain everything to his dad, but the thought was too painful, and he stopped pondering over it.)

▼: THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN REMEMBER FROM THE CONVERSATION THAT MIGHT INDICATE IF HE WAS GOING SOMEWHERE?  
▲: I JUST KNOW HE WAS IN A RUSH. THAT'S WHY HE WOULDN'T CALM THE FUCK DOWN AND JUST EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE HELL HE WAS TALKING ABOUT.  
▲: HE DIDN'T TELL ME WHERE HE NEEDED TO GO OR WHAT HE NEEDED TO DO.  
▼: HM. WELL I KNOW THAT I HAVEN'T HAD QUITE WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH. GRANTED THAT SHOULD BE PRETTY OBVIOUS. I'VE NEVER HAD TO TALK TO SOMEONE WHO WASN'T INTO ME BASED ON MY GENDER.  
▼: I MEAN IN THE RESPECT THAT I WAS INTERESTED IN THEM THAT WAY.  
▲: WELL, IT MAKES THINGS COMPLICATED SINCE WE TROLLS DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THIS GENDER THING.  
▼: YEAH, IT DOES. BUT YOU'LL NEED TO FIND HIM IF YOU PLAN ON EVER TALKING TO HIM AGAIN ANYWAY. HAVE YOU TRIED HIS OTHER FRIENDS?  
▲: NO. LIKE I SAID, THINGS HAVE BEEN SHITTY LATELY. ALL OF THEIR TIMELINES HAVE CORRUPTED AT ONE POINT OR ANOTHER.  
▲: BUT. . . I GUESS I HAVEN'T REALLY BEEN ACTIVELY CHECKING IN ON THEM.  
▼: MAYBE IF YOU GO AND REALLY LOOK THROUGH YOU CAN FIND OUT WHAT THEY'RE UP TO BY THE TIME THEY'RE TIMELINES CORRUPT. MAYBE FIGURE SOMETHING OUT ON WHERE THEY'RE HEADED.  
▲: THAT SOUNDS LIKE A GOOD IDEA.  
▲: I SHOULD PROBABLY DO THAT.

The time on his husktop alerted him that he had been chatting with his long-dead dad for more than two hours, though it didn’t seem to be that long. Still, it had been a _very_ long time since he even tried to check in on the kids, or simply log onto Trollian. He hadn’t really considered the idea before, but if John had once started pestering him first, maybe he would do it again. Karkat hoped he might.

▲: UH.  
▲: THANKS FOR. . . THANKS FOR ALL THE HELP DAD.  
▲: I KIND OF WISH YOU WERE AROUND.  
▲: YOU KNOW, JUST TO HELP ME OUT. BUT FUCKED UP TIMELINES AND WHATEVER.  
▼: YEAH, SORRY. I KIND OF GET EXECUTED LONG BEFORE YOU'RE HATCHED.  
▲: FIGURES YOU'D GET INTO SHIT LIKE THAT.  
▼: WELL I DID TAKE A FEW HIGHBLOODS WITH ME ON THE WAY. I HAVE THIS NASTY HABIT OF NEVER MAKING SHIT EASY FOR THEM.  
▼: ER, HAD.  
▼: IN ANY CASE, IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER, I DON'T THINK YOU DID TOO BAD.  
▲: . . . THANKS.  
▼: YOU'RE WEARING MY SYMBOL.  
▼: WEAR THAT SHIT WITH PRIDE.  
▲: YEAH. WEARING THIS SHIT WITH SO MUCH FUCKING PRIDE.

A half-broken smile found its way onto Karkat’s lips again. Subconsciously, he removed a hand from the keyboard and touched the front of his shirt, grey Cancer symbol emblazoned proudly on it.

▼: THE FURTHEST RING ISN'T SO BAD SINCE THESE DREAM BUBBLES CAME ABOUT. SAY, IF YOU EVER NEED TO SEE ME FACE TO FACE, JUST TRY TAKING A NAP.  
▲: MAYBE. I'VE BEEN KIND OF SHIRKING SLEEP FOR THE PAST FEW WEEKS.  
▼: I MIGHT EVEN BE ABLE TO ROUND UP A FEW OF YOUR FRIENDS IF I CAN FIND THEM.  
▲: MAYBE YOU WON'T HAVE TO.

As he typed, a lump formed in his squawk blister, blocking his voice, had he chosen to speak.

There was still a glimmer of hope, after all.

▲: IF THIS WORKS, MAYBE I CAN JUST. . . TALK TO THEM. OUTSIDE OF DREAM BUBBLES. JUST. . . WHILE WE'RE AWAKE.  
▲: BUT WE'LL SEE.  
▼: YEAH. JUST HANG IN THERE, KID. IT'S NOT OVER YET.  
▲: YEAH. IT'S NOT.  
▼: YOU'LL DO FINE.  
▲: . . . I HOPE WE CAN SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN.  
▲: I'VE GOT TO GO NOW. CHECK UP ON THAT WORTHLESS HUMAN, YOU KNOW?  
▼: AW, KID, YOU'RE BREAKING MY HEART.  
▼: STOP IT, SERIOUSLY.  
▲: YOU TOO. THIS IS REALLY GETTING FUCKING SAPPY LIKE SHIT.  
▼: GO FIND YOUR PINK MONKEY LOVE INTEREST.  
▼: GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I GHOST VOMIT SOMETHING.

Karkat was really trying hard to enjoy the moments he was having with his dad, but the guy was making things incredibly difficult. He wished they weren’t both such sarcastic jerkfaces, but it probably couldn’t be helped.

▲: STOP RUINING THESE MOMENTS, DAMN IT.  
▲: UGH, WHATEVER. I'LL JUST LEAVE NOW.  
▲: AND. . . THANKS AGAIN, DAD.  
▼: NO PROBLEM, KID.  
▲: LATER DAD.  
▼: LATER.

The other user has left

In silent retrospect, Karkat realized what his dad had been trying to do all that time: keep him from crying. It was such a miserable state to be in, but if that was what The Sufferer wanted to do—keep his son strong—then he wouldn’t cry. He had enough of that in the past two weeks to last him the rest of his life. So, instead, Karkat placed his forehead against the table and closed his eyes, breathing deeply and slowly.

It was ironic that The Sufferer was the one trying to keep his son from suffering, but perhaps that was just fate, and even if their timelines and lives weren’t to replay completely over, some things were just meant to happen.

The young troll stayed like that for a few more moments just to recollect himself before clearing his mind and closing the browser he was using. He logged onto Trollian, and a new window immediately bombarded him.

\-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] \--

  
EB: geez, karkat! it’s about time you logged on! i’ve been trying to contact you forever now.  
EB: where have you been???    
CG: JOHN.  
CG: OH MY GOD, JOHN, THAT’S REALLY YOU, RIGHT?   
EB: ???  
EB: karkat are you okay? of course it’s me!

To make doubly sure, Karkat opened up his viewport and clicked on John’s screen. A huge sweep of relief rolled over his body when he saw that, yes, indeed, there was the derpy looking human, sitting with his legs dangling over the side of… he had no idea what it was, but it looked like a ledge of some sort. The boy appeared a bit worse for the wear, but he wasn’t in a critical condition, at least.

His buckteeth were still peeking over his lower lip, through the tiny smile he had on his face. For some reason, he looked like he was suppressing an inane amount of giddiness in him. His legs were swinging back and forth happily, and the breeze was whirling around him in equal activity.

CG: I’M OKAY.  
CG: FUCK, IT’S JUST. . . IT’S A LONG STORY, OKAY?  
EB: gosh, karkat, you really don’t sound that “okay” to me, but i guess i’ll take your word for it.  
EB: do you. . .  
EB: do you want to tell me about it, maybe???  
EG: i might be able to help!!  
CG: . . .  
CG: YEAH, JOHN.  
CG: THAT ACTUALLY SOUNDS LIKE A REALLY GOOD PLAN.  
CG: I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT IT THEN.  
CG: EVERYTHING THAT HAS BEEN HAPPENING TO ME  
CG: I’LL TELL YOU.  
CG: BUT YOU’LL HAVE TO TELL ME WHAT YOU’VE BEEN DOING TOO, ALRIGHT?  
EB: yeah, sure!! i’ll definitely tell you, karkat! don’t worry. :)  
EB: i’m here now, after all, right?  
EB: hehehe! :D  
CG: YEAH. YOU ARE HERE NOW. . .  
CG: . . .  
CG: :)

Karkat leaned back and closed his eyes, allowing a small smile mirror the one John had. He could finally relax now.


	3. Epilogue(s)

The breeze felt so nice on their hot foreheads, threading every which way through their clothing and hair, gentle in its caressing and loving in its feeling. This was John’s breeze. This was John’s breeze, but the world was his and Rose and Dave and Jade’s too.

This was the world that the kids had created from their session, and there was nothing but the word “beautiful” to describe it.

They had done it though, despite all the odds they had faced, the kids had somehow pulled through and beat their game. Even with Bec Noir and his impossible god-moding, even with all their timelines getting scrambled, even with the black screens and viewports that revealed nothing but grimdarkness and desolation for the longest time.

Indeed, they had done it, and this was their world.

Taking a look around, it was easy to find characteristics of each of the kids.

The playful and whimsical breeze was John’s; the tenably magical aura in the air was Rose’s; the soft, musical quality pervading through the comfortable heat was Dave’s; and the softly glowing grass and thick, tropical forests were Jade’s.

But they weren’t alone on their new galaxy. The trolls were there too.

And now, standing before the circle of eleven— _just like the number of corpses, but_ —Karkat still couldn’t really believe it. All of them looked a little stunned, as if they weren’t sure what was happening before they woke up to realize they were standing up. They had all woken up, none crazy, none dead, none delirious. Pleasantly surprised, perhaps, but very, very, _very_ much alive.

Next to him, John was looking at him with a peculiar, curious expression. The troll only saw it out of his peripheral vision, but it was enough. He squeezed the warm hand in his, pale and pink against his own, and turned his head into the boy’s shoulder. For a long time, he just stood there with his eyes clenched and hand shaking ever-so slightly.

They were back, all of them. His friends, his enemies, his _everything_. They were all back.

The human applied comforting pressure against his hand and patted him slightly on the shoulder.

“Hey…. It’s okay. You can cry. Everything’s okay now. Everything’s okay.”

A grey, clawed hand came up to grasp the Heir’s blue shirt, crumpling the symbol on it, and he pulled himself closer to the other. Instinctively, John turned and let the troll bury his face into the crook of his neck, his arms going protectively around his shoulders. He felt warm wetness trickle down his neck, and pushed his face into the troll’s hair, trying his best to hide the trails going down his cheeks as well.

It had been a long dayweekmonth for them. They were tired.

But it was all over now.

And everything was okay.

*****

“Okay, shit, this isn’t the right bubble either. Hang on, I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

“Karkat! Hurry up already! Geez, at this rate, I’ll wake up before we get anywhere. What’s so important about this ‘one dream bubble’ anyway? Stop being so secretive about it already!”

"Calm your shit down, will you, John? Just be patient and follow me. Jesus fuck.”

The boy rolled his eyes and sighed, floating out of their current bubble and into another one.

It was a peculiar bubble, with dark, muted colors that reminded him of the olden days. Like the days he never saw except in old movies that were _okay, not that bad, but Rose, can we please watch_ Con Air _now_?

Someone was sitting in a large, formidable looking chair, though John could only make out the vague silhouette of the person/troll. He squinted and frowned, but Karkat gestured for him to shut up before he even started talking.

The troll cleared his throat nervously and stepped forward. Alerted by his new visitors, the figure turned his head slightly to see who it was. Then, he stood up from his chair, and all John could think about was, _Wow. He’s_ really _big and tall_.

There was something incredibly familiar about him though, despite not being able to put his finger quite on it. The other troll—because there was no doubt that it was a troll now—had scars running up and down his arms, and even his face, but it was that face that was suspiciously familiar. John’s bespectacled eyes wandered up to the top of the troll’s head. Two nubby horns.

He glanced uselessly back at Karkat, who had taken up looking at the floor with a red flush on his cheeks.

 _Wait_. John did a double-take. _Nubby horns_? He opened his mouth to speak, but the older troll beat him to it.

“So this is the little pink monkey you were telling me about, Karkat?” the deep baritone rumbled across the bubble, making John feel like every bone in his body was vibrating.

He swallowed nervously, suddenly realizing just _how small_ he was compared to the grown troll. The guy was easily two or so meters taller than him, and his shoulders were at least thrice as wide as his. Things got even worse when the aged, wise eyes slowly slid from the silent, adolescent troll to him. The heavy gaze settled, unnerving the poor boy more and more, until he was forced to adopt the same action Karkat was enrolled in.

A soft, amused chuckle broke the silence of the awkward stare-off. “He’s a pretty cute looking fucker, isn’t he?”

John couldn’t believe how much more uncomfortable things got, but Karkat beat him to it.

"Oh my god, Dad! Could you stop with the fucking creepy creeper act for five minutes? It’s the first fucking time you’ve met him and you’re already saying weird things!” He started flailing and, like Dave described it, “doing fucking acrobatic pirouettes off the handle.” It wasn’t until the older troll ( _Whoa,_ what _? Did Karkat just call this guy “Dad”?_ John thought, his mouth completely hanging open.) punched the younger one in the shoulder (“Fuck, Dad, that fucking hurt! Keep your goddamned punches to yourself!”) that he stopped acting ridiculous.

“Well, why don’t you introduce us to each other then, you little fuckass?”

“I was _getting_ to it, before you went creeper mode on u—ow! Okay, fuck, I’m introducing already! Jesus fuck!” Karkat turned back to John with a clearly embarrassed expression and jabbed a thumb in the direction of the elder troll. “John—this is my dad. Remember… remember the stuff about our ancestors I told you about? He’s The Sufferer, and my Dad.

“Dad, John Egbert. Stop being a fucking creeper to him. You’re freaking him out,” he said briefly and angrily to his father.

It took a second for the Heir to recollect himself and try to process everything that was happening. Finally, when he found his voice again, he stammered, “N-Nice to meet you, Mr. Vantas!”

“Nice to meet you too, kid. You have no idea how much Karkat has been telling me about you for the past few—”

“AaaaAAAUUUUGH, OKAY, THAT’S ENOUGH SHOW AND TELL FOR NOW, CAN WE PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP?” the smaller troll began to flounder around again.

Despite himself, John let out a goofy little laugh, hiding his mirth behind a loosely clenched fist. This earned a glare from his matesprit/boyfriend, but he didn’t mind. Karkat was always amusing when he was flipping shit over, which was basically always.

Mr. Vantas began to ruffle Karkat’s hair playfully, intimidating grin on his face (though John was sure it was meant to be good-humored) and chest puffing out proudly. Even with how Karkat was acting, he had a feeling that he loved his dad too. Their interaction made it clear enough, at least. The larger troll leaned down roughly to Karkat’s level and poked the teen in the cheeks a few times before murmuring something which made the youth still, blink hard, and look away quickly.

John wasn’t able to catch it, and no matter how many times he asked and bugged and pesteredtrolledprankedkissedhuggedpoked him about it, Karkat wouldn’t tell him and shoved him off.

But in a way, John didn’t have to ask. Deep in his heart, he already knew what it was, because they were the same words that _his_ dad had once given to him. And words like those didn’t need to be repeated, but once, or perhaps never, because it was words like those that father and son would be able to understand, even without them being spoken aloud.

They were simple, plain, and unadorned, but they did their job well. To Karkat—and to John—all that mattered was that _they knew_ , and that was the end of it.

Because when it all boiled down, it was the end, and everything was okay.

And when the note was read, or the hand removed from his hair, the only words that counted and echoed and remained were still there, loud and clear.

 _Son. I am so, so proud of you._

And that was all that mattered.


End file.
